


Eden of the North

by Calesvol



Series: The Archives [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, F/M, Heavy Angst, Holy fuck so much angst, M/M, Political Campaigns, Slow Burn, UST, also UST, basically it's angsty and ravus is there what did you expect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 18:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13059978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calesvol/pseuds/Calesvol
Summary: Part 1 of The Red Room series, Ravus Nox Fleuret has a conundrum to deal with: Niflheim's most celebrated assassin also happens to be the heir of the line of Lucis, putting him in a crosshairs he didn't think he'd be encountering. When said assassin starts becoming a regular fixture in his life, a greater conspiracy unfolds that's beyond either of them.A scheme that could make or break the world.





	Eden of the North

Twelve years. He kept count by the icicles that dribbled and accumulated from that sharp eves that bowed over a small window from which he saw the world, gray and clouded. It were as though they rode within a white-capped winter sea, Gralea. A steel and lifeless warship that still breathed and moaned and hissed and dreamed as though it were alive. Rank did not promise comfort in Zegnautus. Deputy High Commander, years spent clawing and suffering through abuse with a stiff upper lip, rarely allowed the tender company of his own sister while he worked tooth and bone to protect her. The last light of his life when their mother’s had been snuffed out.

Though, they could not see that. Else they’d tear into him, hook and nail, bleed him red and carve out that filial devotion and fill him with rage and salt instead.

So, he took that hate and rage and grief and made it his armor. So far, it had worked. (So far, it had rusted.)

A clattering vibrato of his phone drumming his nightstand awoke the man from his sleep, Ravus blinking back the film of sleep as he sat himself up, arm dangling over the side before he craned for the cell phone and tabbed it open, regarding the caller ID with a snarling curl of his lip.

“Commander Ulldor. Might I inquire as to the reason behind your call this morning?” Ravus greeted with a stiff edge in his voice, faint sleepiness evaporating before the steely jab of annoyance.

“Come now, Lord Ravus—it’s rather important. There’s someone here I’d like you to meet. Someone you’ve been assigned to work with for a time,” Ulldor responded, a slight mocking tinging his tone.

Ravus gave the phone a withering stare before responding, “Very well. I will be there shortly.” ‘There’ likely meant Ulldor’s division of the army, his oversight predominantly centered on the aerial forces. Zegnautus Keep, aside from functioning as both as labs and the seat of government, housed the powers that be. Even with MT’s, Niflheim still boasted an impressive standing army. One that could drive even Lucis to its knees.

A placating thought.

Hardly any time was wasted in preparing himself, though he certainly didn’t rush. For all he’d endured, all Ravus had suffered through to claw his way to the position he was in, it was in these subtle forms of defiance that vindicated him. Gave him a sense of mastery over a life that gored its regimented ways into him like teeth, visceral and alive.

A subtle spur to never forget why he wore his homeland’s regalia. Why he was Deputy High Commander. His power was for his sister, and none other.

* * *

It would not be unsuitable to call them wolves, the way they fought. The baying of clashing steel, the scuff of paws upon concrete, the virulence in eyes that betrayed all emotion otherwise kept stifled. Bristling hide that crackled with energy. Yet, it was the one swathed in black that prevailed. A swift hit of finality to the gut, a swipe of the leg to displace them—leaving little for the opponent to do little else than stagger to the ground and moan their defeated pain. Perhaps what was heard was the reedy whine of a popped and deflating ego.

Ravus watched on as mismatched eyes found home on the victor; a short man—shorter than himself, at least—stood with his back turned. Spiky hair upturned in unruly tufts, a blue sheen to otherwise black. The commander seemed to feel time itself slow as the victor turned, finding as wine-rose eyes met his own, something unshakably familiar.

_LUNA!_

_The King of Lucis conducting a mad dash for some escape, son in his arm whilst Lunafreya bolted alongside him, clutching his hand as though it were an iron anchor. They ran through wood smoke and wood fire, his nostrils clogged with embers as Ravus hovered over the prone form of his dead mother. He still remembered her hair like spun gold spilling from its coif, dead eyes reflecting the flames while her blood stained his face and Ravus swore that his tongue was coated in copper and rust. He screamed for her, screamed for the Lucian king who fled like the devil was at his heels, snapping with the quickness of flame._

“Lord Ravus, how wonderful of you to have arrived.” A voice taller than its owner spoke through the cloud of his thoughts, breaking Ravus from that mournful reminiscence.

Frowning, Ravus glanced down to see Caligo standing near his flank, chest puffed with a pigeon’s pride. “Would it be that I knew why I was here at all, Commander,” Ravus replied tartly, impatience undisguised. Gaze now upon the shorter man, the other from before was temporarily forgotten.

Caligo raised his chin boastfully as he nodded his head towards the contender from before, Ravus following it; there was relief in being able to turn from such a grotesquely egotistical man. “Tell me, Lord Ravus, are you at all familiar with the one known as the Niflheim Reaper?” A moniker chosen as some exaggeration of reputation, no doubt.

“Yes. What of it?” He’d heard the tales of an assassin that was practically an urban legend. With dozens of assassinations in their name, they were often seen as the bringer of death itself. A mantle that was gladly adopted by this so-called assassin’s keepers. Ravus had heard the legends, but for them to be attributed to one person was preposterous. More like, it was the work of several people that only the inane would believe was one.

And he was no such fool.

Caligo’s smile seemed to grow wolfish and his rodent-wide eyes became beady with an egotistical strain, Ravus internally grimacing. “Come here, my boy. There’s someone you’ve yet to meet,” Caligo beckoned to the victor from before, having stood blank and statuesque during their brief exchange. Ravus found himself strangely mesmerized as he moved, the nameless one turning to stalk with an edged and bladed stride, brows furrowing in disbelief.

A face too pristine and boyish for those old ruby eyes met his own, angled yet soft. One might think this a benign face, one that gave way to trusting were it not for the severity that marred it; a deadly stoniness that bore a razor calm, almost daring defiance before he’d lash viciously out. Body muscular, it was the body of a warrior, not some malnourished child. One that bespoke of experience. Clad in black leather, one could almost picture it glisten with blood-gleam.

Except, Ravus’ reaction wasn’t quite as calm.

A changed color of eye couldn’t fool him. He knew them. He knew them so well it sparked a flame and burnt noxious in his chest, heat melting mournfulness and evaporating grief in place of an acute, exacting want for revenge. Eyes of the sire, sins of the father. Ravus glowered hotly at the boy, lips ready to raise in a snarl.

How could this be? After the invasion, all he’d ever heard was of Noctis living in the lap of luxury, living almost normally. Living as he pleased without a care in the world while he and his sister suffered from their captors. Yet…the blood of Caelum and Fleuret had always resonated with one another from time immemorial, and not being the Oracle didn’t exclude Ravus from such affinity, either.

This abomination  _was_ Noctis.

“Commander, a word.”

Behind his back, he could feel Caligo’s softly-bladed glare, like a dagger concealed in cloth. A cowardly indignation. When they were well from earshot of the assassin, who hadn’t yet riddled Ravus’ identity, the Tenebraen all but fumed. “What is the meaning of this? Do you mean to tell me that _boy_ is this legendary Reaper?”

Caligo seemed taken aback, confused by Ravus’ apparent anger. His smile was nervous, placating. “Now why would that be so wrong, Lord Ravus? You detest the line of Lucis. This is simply putting their stock to better use.”

“Do not mistake my anger as concern over his welfare,” Ravus snapped hastily, voice a cutting blade. “If you honestly think—“

He never managed to finish that sentence before he felt a cold blade menace itself on the nape of his neck, Ravus swallowing back a chill as the hairs on the back of his neck bristle, as though standing behind a draft. Cautiously did Ravus crane his head back, finding it was Noctis who threatened him. …How? There had been no sound of his approach, no telltale indicators of warping native to Caelum heirs.

“Remove your blade this instant,” Ravus hissed, anger more apparent now, “or else I will remove your hand!”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Noctis retorted coolly. “You appeared to be threatening the Commander. So I acted.” The blade lowered some, but barely.

“Ulldor, call off your pet!”

Caligo gestured once for Noctis to desist, the assassin doing so almost with reluctance. He stood by a wall of the training hall, watching them hawkishly. Ravus sniffed disdainfully. “My apologies, Lord Ravus. However, this is what I wished to speak to you about. You see, His Radiance has insisted the assassin serve as your guard before the treaty signing in Lucis.”

An order issued from Aldercapt himself? An assassin was no bodyguard, let alone a Caelum. Did Iedolas wish to cause a scandal by having him there? Ravus sighed harshly, knowing this was an order he couldn’t refuse. Though, his actions from before bothered him. Would he seek to do something similar should Ravus do what he perceived as stepping out of line? Regardless, it seemed as though Noctis would journey with him as a leash. Why now he sought to keep eyes on his person was beyond him.

“Very well, Commander Ulldor. I shall make the necessary arrangements. See to it that the… _asset_  is similarly prepared.”


End file.
